


Dimo/Oggie Fluffn'stuff

by Pythonmelon



Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-08 01:51:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5478899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pythonmelon/pseuds/Pythonmelon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of short shipping drabbles meant to just be happy, fluffy, and has the occasional AU thrown in</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drunken Lament

Dimo and Oggie had time to kill at the bar, their hotel room was taken. Maxim had found a fellow to take back for the evening and it left the other two jagers to get drunk off of their rockers. The eldest wrapped a thick green arm around Ognian’s shoulders. “Dis guy, see dis guy?” He motioned to the rest of the bar. It was empty. This was a domestic place, and as soon as people realized that wild jagers were drinking here it cleared out like there was a fire. The monster completely disregarded this fact. “He iz my best friend.”  
The bartender had even fled, leaving them a free tap. The horned jager leaned across the polished oak and refilled his mug. It was a special mug that his older brother had given him, bearing the form of a beautiful undressed woman. This glass had a terrible amount of head on it, but he didn’t mind too much. He was too drunk to mind. “Aw, Dimo, hy appreciate dot so much.”  
His cheeks were very pink. Really, really pink. Dimo liked that a lot. “Und hyu, hyu iz zo goot to me und Maxim. Hyu dun mind vhen ve go off vithout hyu…” He hiccupped. “Hyu care zo much. Hyu iz a goot friend.”  
“Maxim,” Ognian motioned with his glass, spilling it in an arc on the floor and table. “Iz a lucky guy. Verra lucky… hyu iz zo handsome.” The pink turned to crimson. He leaned forward and nuzzled Dimo affectionately.  
The smaller man smiled, blushing, taking a deep whiff of the fur of his companion’s collar. It was so warm. “Aw, Oggie. Dots so sveet of you.”  
Oggie hiccupped again and kissed his cheek in response. “Hy like hyu a lot. Hy dun normally like guyz… hy dun know if hy’ve ever liked a man. But hyu…” He giggled.  
Dimo pulled his chin up and kissed him, open-mouthed and smiling. “Hy am glad hyu told me, sveet.” They continued kissing, snuggling innocently, Dimo’s beard stubble scratching his cheek pleasantly. Dimo was surprised by the declaration, really. But they had held this conversation at least twelve times in the last ten years. It was coming close to one hundred in since they met, growing constantly more frequent. Eventually it would come out when Oggie was sober, but for now it was a shame they never remembered the conversations.


	2. An Arm and a Leg

It was one of those rare, silent evenings when the cavernous mountainside became very true to its name. Most of the place was just beginning to sleep, the furnishings that had been rushed in over the last few months creaking as they settled. What guards there were laid in wait for Wulfenbach forces outside the well-hidden entrances, coated in cloaks of leaves and frost.   
Ognian took a few seconds to sigh as he eased the nursery door shut. There were only a few children, but they were a handful and he still felt sadly out of practice at domestic life, suddenly thrust into it after twenty-odd years on the road with only the clothes on his back and his closest partners. He did greatly enjoy it though, melancholy as it was. This was the first spring since Mrs. Agatha had disappeared without a trace with the Von Blitzengard brat.   
He tiptoed carefully up staircase after staircase of newly cut stone steps. He could still smell the dust and sweat of work in the air, here and there. His nostrils flared and his mind immediately turned to food. At this time, between dinner and midnight snacks, there should have been an available side of beef that he could tear into. He could fill himself up and escape the extremely loud silence that this hour held.   
But as he climbed and the warm light of the kitchen approached, so did the sound of someone he knew well rummaging through the room, just by the movement and tone at this distance he could tell Dimo was bemoaning his new appendage. The struggle beckoning, he peered into see the older jager fighting with the straps of his robotic arm, attempting to shake it off. He stretched his living arm around his back, claws trying and failing to snag at the buckles holding it on his shoulder.   
He was obviously growing frustrated, and Oggie rushed in to stop a brewing tantrum. “Dimo, Dimo, vhat’s de matter?” He undid the strap, catching the heavy metal arm before it could fall, severing countless wires and connectors that would mean days of more distracting work for Adam.   
Grateful, the green-toned creature collapsed into a chair, rested the arm on it, and began undoing the connections from his stump. Ognian stared at it and swallowed. He had to feel that this was his fault. “Dimo, are hyu-“  
“It hurts.” The older man mumbled gruffly through clenched teeth. Oggie swallowed and took over, flustered, fingers shaking a little bit.   
“Did hyu tell Adam?” He turned his head down, finishing up and letting Dimo relax.   
“No.” He sighed. The stump where his arm had been looked good, there was now a handful of ports that connected to nerves here and there so he could control the new arm. “Hy’m just not used to it yet. I vill be, dun vorry.”  
“Hy’m sorry.” The blonde blurted it out before he could think properly. He reached out gently and stroked the end, careful not to make his friend flinch. He kneaded a thumb over it tenderly, and Dimo visibly relaxed, slumping down in his chair and letting his eyelids droop.  
Allowing the massage to continue, he smiled weakly. “Dun be. If hyu hadn’t cut it off, y vould be dead. Liquid. Taken out by a dem acid slug.”   
Ognian blushed and stifled a chuckle. He took things so seriously when they were alone, but he tried very hard to wear the mask they all did. He wanted to be as easy going as Dimo. “Dot’s not de vay to go for hyu. Iz not manly enough.”   
“It needs to be acid turtles vhen hy go.” The green jager cracked a grin, using his one hand to stop and clasp Oggie’s. “Dis ting, eet just veighs me down for now. Hy’m not used to it yet. I’ll get into practice.”   
“Hokay.” The younger monster looked down, flushing further as his palm was held, the sensation of a solitary claw stroking across his knuckles. His flesh warmed, and he leaned into the touch until Dimo had a muscular arm wrapped tenderly around his shoulder. He felt a pair of soft lips surrounded by trademark stubble make contact with his forehead.   
“Hokay.” Dimo tilted the other man’s chin up.   
As their eyes were brought level, Ognian looked into the soft, wise face of the creature who had seen him through thick and thin, heartache and joy, any measure of emotion that could be listed in three hundred years. He shut his eyes, suppressing a shuddering, undecided gasp of emotion between gratefulness, sadness, and joy. Dimo pressed his forehead against Oggie’s, hot breath misting his cheeks. He grinned, silent, and kissed the end of his sweet companion’s nose.   
Oggie put his hands over his mouth, giggling like a child. He couldn’t help himself. To silence it, he thrust his lips clumsily against Dimo’s cheek. This was returned willingly, and his fists balled up with tired joy. “…Vhat did hyu come in here for in de first place?”   
The other jager blinked several times, returning to reality. His cheeks were still flushed pink and he longed to pull Oggie close before they were forced by awkwardness to part, before someone could catch them sharing kisses. “Hy vanted to get to dot side of beef before hyu did. But hy lost my appetite.”   
“Hy’m sorry.” Oggie spouted another strangled apology.   
“Don’t be.” Dimo scolded his younger counterpart tenderly. “Let’s leave it for somevun who needs it more. Ve need our rest.”   
“I have an extra blanket in my bunk.” Oggie admitted, rubbing the back of his neck and still grinning like a fool. “If hyu vant to share. Just for tonight.”   
“Dot sounds vonderful.” The eldest of the two stood, yawning, following his companion to a well-deserved pleasant night’s rest.


	3. Horn (Just One)

A jager’s eyes opened lazily, the corneas of which were yellowed through heathen science and glowed like the fat hanging moon. He yawned, thundering breath tearing past a wall of fangs, and shattering the delicate silence of a Mechanicsburg night. He rolled onto his side, not yet tensing to fight the thing that had woken him but retreating back from a slovenly animalistic spread to something similar to a human in stature.   
Dimo pawed at the reddening side of his cheek, not capable yet of waking fully. “Who’s dere?”  
Ognian was staring at him teary-eyed from the dark. The older monster grunted, eyebrows jumping. His companion had been very strangely emotional in the week since taking the jaegerdraught. Usually a monster was full of adrenalized rage, but Ognian was surprisingly melancholy, very sensitive. At this point, almost two weeks after becoming a monster, he thought he had himself a bit more under control now.   
The blonde grunted, moving in close. Dimo sighed, wrapping an arm around him. “Vhat is it Oggie?”   
“My horn is embarrassing.” He closed his eyes. For a moment, the green monster had forgotten that he had a horn at all. It was tiny nub of bone just above his ear, probably the one thing that kept anyone for mistaking him for human.   
He groaned softly. “Ognian, who said dot? Ve are jaegerkin. Hyu should be proud of hyu horn.”   
“But iz a baby horn.” The blonde pouted into the crook of his companion’s arm. “Everyone says so.”  
“Oggie, not everyvun says so. And iz not true anyvay. Hy tink iz very… charismatic.” He comforted, pressing his nose against Oggie’s ear and snorting in his warm and homey scent of oak-moss and sunshine. Dimo touched a thumb over the stump of bone and nuzzled.   
“Think so?”   
“Yah, and iz gonna gonna grow. Haz forever to grow.” The older monster yawned, wanting to return to his sleep.   
“I don’t know about forever.” Ognian settled in, staring at the stars. “Buy dis is vhat ve signed up for.”


	4. Piercings and Private Schools

Piercings were the high schooler’s mark of hierarchy, at least here and Transylvania Prep. Among the boys who knew how to strut, especially those under eighteen who either had lenient parents or a good forging hand, the more numerous or daring piercings you had, the more of a teenage god you were. Thankfully, at least to the eyes of the teachers, there were not many of these fourteen to eighteen year old self-proclaimed lords walking around. Most boys couldn’t lie their way out of a box at a piercing parlor, and especially weren’t allowed to wear them visibly in class.   
Ognian and Dimo had fallen into this trend, unfortunately. More the blonde boy than the other to be honest, the dark haired boy was more into it just for the sake of fashion, and his style of choice appeared to be Grunge, something popular in the American Northwest. It included casual clothes of flannel, messy hair, ripped jeans, and a small lip ring that accentuated his impressive pout with a gleam of silver.   
Oggie didn’t want to risk flawing his perfect, dream boat face with piercings, and seemed to be too afraid to get his ears pierced for the risk of looking feminine, though there were several young men like himself who did it and he had no grounds to criticize them. He had managed to sneak into this hierarchy with one of the most painful and easiest to hide piercings though, a pair of golden hoops glittering on his chest.  
This also happened to be, in the opinion of Dimo, the most attractive piercing he probably could have gotten. At least, as far ahead as his fifteen-year-old mind could think.  
The boys both knew there was painful, probably laughable tension between them. It had been so for almost a year and would be for the rest of their lives if Ognian had his hard-headed way and pretended he fit neatly into his perceived box of straightness. He knew his roommate was comfortable with being bisexual, he knew they liked each other, and he knew he would probably never do anything about it. But it couldn’t hurt his precious heterosexuality to experiment.  
“How’s hyu piercings, Oggie?” Dimo glanced up from his copy of ‘The Hogfather’ (Off season, but one of his favorites) to check on his closest friend. They were still new enough, only two months old.   
The younger man blinked several times. It was only eight, but lights out was at this time and they weren’t allowed to be out of the room. It was time best spent lounging, and he took the time to make it about scrap booking and letters to his mother. He closed his latest page of clipped together photos and set the book aside, nodding to his companion. “Hokay. Schtill kinda sore.” He touched one thoughtlessly but didn’t wince. Dimo only now noticed that his pajamas didn’t include a shirt tonight. It clicked in the back of his mind that he was no longer embarrassed by it.   
Tentatively, the dark haired boy stood. He sat carefully on the edge of the bed. Oggie tucked a bit of golden hair behind his ear and smiled. Yes, definitely time for another move that would probably go nowhere. “Can hy look?”   
“Sure.” He blushed, blinking, then pulled his hands away from his chest to expose the little rings.   
Pleased but still careful not to push either of them out of their comfort zones, he did touch one gently. “De gorls probably love dem.”   
“Vhat gorls? Ve go to a prep school. De only gorls we see is at home on spring break. De only eyes I tink dey is catching,” He chuckled. “Iz hyu’s.”   
“Vhat? Nooooo” Dimo rolled his eyes away and chuckled, teasingly leaning in and receiving, quite to his surprise, a kiss on the side of his mouth. “Hokay maybe a little.” He gave the kiss back.   
“Iz hokay.” He grunted, easing back on his pillow. Both their books forgotten, Dimo took to nipping and kissing his cheeks, then neck, then pausing.   
“Are hyu comfortable?” He muttered huskily, or as well as a fifteen-year-old could.   
“Hyu lip ring is cold.” The smaller boy snickered. “Buy yes.”   
“It’ll varm up.” Dimo took the approval to slide in closer and resume the kisses, now as daringly as he could bring himself to be, and pressing his lips around one of those tiny golden hoops. Where, in trying to draw away, he found himself stuck by the lip ring.   
Ognian flinched. “Dimo…”  
“Hy’m… stuck.” He grunted. “Oh jesus Christ hy’m stuck.”   
“Oh nooo….” He whined, almost instinctively jerking back and simpering in pain. “Ve can’t tell anybody. Vhat vould dey tink?”   
The darker boy’s brows fell. ‘Be tinking vhat I vanted to be doing.’ He practically hissed, but managed to keep it to himself and sighed. “Try to get my ring off, Oggie.”


	5. Clean-Up Crew

“VHAT?” Ognian couldn’t decide if he needed to grin or scream. He shrieked like a pterodactyl. “He can do dot? Hy didn’t think he could do dot!”   
“Vell, Oggie, all he had to do vas shave.” Jenka shrugged.  
“I didn’t tink he could, though.” He groaned, and then smiled slyly. “Vell, now hy know… maybe hy can get him to do dot for me?”   
“I dunno, hyu gotta have blackmail.”   
“Hy know he can clean up, is dot not enough? Imagine if hy told Maxim.” The blonde jager smirked.   
The woman laughed. Her scarf ruffled while around her shoulders. “He better not know any one of us can dress up, or we’ll be wearing his thigh-high boots for months.”   
“Last time he got me to wear those, hy didn’t stop chaffing for a month.” Oggie snorted. “Thenk hyu Jenka.”  
“It doesn’t look bad.” She promised.  
~~~  
“Hmmm…” The blonde dug through Dimo’s sparse closet as if it had more than two coats in it. The other jager leaned against the doorframe, eyebrow cocked up, pouting. He had no idea what Ognian was doing. “Oh, Dimo, vhat is this?” He cooed as if surprised.   
A shining white coat was removed and presented. He grinned smugly at the older monster was his face drained. “Dots nothing. Zumting Maxim got me. Hy haven’t gotten to throw it out yet.”   
He turned and casually checked the label. “Parisian huh? Now vhere vould Maxim get this? Says dey don’t ship dis brand.”   
“So?” He muttered, looking down and away.   
“So, hy know hyu vore it in Paris.” Ognian leaned in and fluttered his eyelashes. “Can hyu vear it for me? Und brush hyu hair, shave hyu stubble…”   
Dimo moaned like he’d just been stabbed. “Damn Jenka. Hy knew somevun vould tell.” He scowled down at a begging Oggie. “Next hyu’s gonna ask me to stand up straight.”  
The taller man continued to give him puppy eyes and a precious, kissable jutted lower lip. “It can’t hurt.” One loose claw wandered carefully across his sweetheart’s chest between the buttons of his shirt. “Hy bet hyu clean up real nize.”   
“Just ‘cause ve’s sveet on each odder doesn’t mean I gots to do everything hyu say.” Dimo sighed, caved, and pecked the side of his companion’s mouth distractedly.   
“Sure. Hy gets to do vhat hyu ask zumtimes.” Ognian happily rested himself on Dimo’s bed while the other dug around for his razor.   
“Don’t say dot, Oggie.” The other jager shook the hairbrush he’d dug out of an old knapsack at the blonde. “Hy’m gonna ask a lot after dis.”


	6. The Morning After

He woke in drafty, grey morning light. It was cold, but comfortably so. The blankets were rumpled in a heap, unevenly distributed between them. Their feet, side by side, were entirely exposed. Oggie sighed, rolling over. Dimo was turned away from him, and the younger man took a few moments to admire the curve of his thick shoulders against the slate grey walls. He hesitated to run a hand gently through the soft, wiry fur in fear of startling his partner. The jager was too content in his place, watching the slow rise and fall of his partner’s breathing. It was so strange. He certainly didn’t regret it; he couldn’t. Three hundred years of pining, of admiring, and only in the two years since they had hidden themselves away here in the mountain, home effectively gone, had he had the courage to bring it to fruition. And now this, the answer to the once frightening questions about whether or not this was right, anything more than familiarity mistaken for affection.  
Ognian sighed, eyes fluttering shut again. He felt strangely empty, strangely full. The monster rolled over, to get another ideal hour of sleep before going back to the nursery. A heavy, cold mechanical arm wrapped protectively around his chest. He took a shaky, happy breath. All was well.


	7. Nudity (Art?) In motion

Oggie watched Dimo from across the brauhaus table, picking at his food gently. He wasn’t hungry. That never happened. He picked up a slice of pecan tart, and sat it back down again. None of his companions seemed to notice. The jager’s cheeks were flushed, his stomach rolling. He was not ill, he was daydreaming. Dimo was not wearing a shirt. That was not unusual, in fact Oggie himself wasn’t wearing a shirt either. That made it even worse.   
A dream had passed through his mind the night before, something clicking strangely in the thick of his mind. He had been resting by the fire on guard, looking back occasionally to where Dimo and Maxim had been sleeping. It was cold, and he was tired of his scrapbooks. A hand fell quite suddenly on his shoulder, but it was not a surprise.   
And there was the crush he had been struggling to keep a secret. Somehow Dimo had known, and that was no surprise either. An arm snaked around his shoulder, their lips met, and…  
The blonde shook his head hard, flushing even harder. He couldn’t help but to wonder if, to imagine that his mind’s certain *ahem* assumptions about the anatomy of his companion as the dream went on sweetly were correct. His eyes wandered up and down each curve of Dimo’s upper body, the trail of shaggy, so-soft looking purple fur beginning at his naval.   
He stood up, ran to the river, and rinsed his burning face. The only note the other two ever made of it were to wonder if he was coming down with a fever.


	8. No, It's Mine

“No, no, iz mine.” Dimo pointed to the desk his classmate was lounging in, sipping uncaringly at a Monster. “I haff sat here all year, hyu kent just sit dere!”   
The blonde sighed, setting his drink down. His loose T-shirt was stained with sweat from his morning run. Brown calf’s eyes turned up to the other man’s. “Dun see hyu name on it, ja?”  
The older man flushed, biting his tongue. He picked up the drink and flipped desk over, pointing at a name carved inexpertly in the bottom. ‘Dimo’ it read, clearly because it took up most of the surface. “Ah,” Ognian raised his eyebrows. That was indisputable ownership right there. “Vell,” He took his energy drink back. “Hy’ll move over,”   
“Good.” Dimo puffed out his chest.   
“If,” The blonde added. “Hyu haff a number to go vith dot name?”


	9. Over a Sea of Colored Stars

Oggie found himself next to someone he didn’t know, squeezed into a creaking carousel seat with a greaser simply because he was too excited to wait another round. He wanted to watch the fair, now in full dark, from above. He wanted to see the dizzying rides, lights flying. He wanted to be able to locate the popcorn stands, the mirror house, the petting zoo from so far away like a great observer. It was all in full tilt because the dark was still fresh, this was the best time.   
The young man beside him was a little bit wide for the seat, but he was not slouching. Ognian was shocked almost to laughter by seeing this handsome, rough-cut smoke scented teen gripping the safety bar so hard that his calloused knuckles turned white.   
“Are hyu okay?” He had to ask, timidly. He didn’t want the guy to throw up on him, if he was sick. The seat rocked and his companion gasped loudly.   
“Hy do not vant to be here.” His words hissed out between clenched teeth. “Hy am only on this squealing death vheel on a dare. Laugh all hyu vant, but vhatever hyu do do not shake this seat.” Even though his voice was hushed and almost quivering, Oggie felt a very real threat to it. He became stock-still as well.   
“Hokay,” He raised a hand as if to pat the older boy’s shoulder, then hesitated. He turned his eyes out over the flowing crowd like a stream. An ocean of colored lights and music washed up and met them as the wheel rolled them higher and higher up, eventually stopping with a jolt at the top. His companion’s breathing was strained, not panicking but borderline. He looked at his feet like he really was going to be sick.   
“Hey, hey,” Oggie couldn’t stand to see anyone in a position like this. Especially not in such close quarters with himself. “Look, look out over the fair. Hyu feel the shaking less.” He motioned- gently- to the world around them.   
Dimo’s terrified personal bubble burst when he glanced up. Back straightening, he was still breathing heavily but it was less at the forefront of his mint. Beyond them was space, colored stars glittering and moving endlessly.   
“Isn’t it pretty?” The blonde whispered, half expecting the other boy to not be able to hear him.   
“Ja.” His eyes gleamed. It startled Oggie a little, but he smiled tenderly. Maybe the fear wasn’t gone, but it was thankfully distracted. He didn’t say anything else, hands relaxing a touch. The seat tilted forward slightly as they began to roll downwards, and he startled only slightly, eyes darting away to this stranger’s with a grimace. It lasted only a few seconds, and suddenly they were stepping off onto solid ground again.   
Dimo stumbled as his feet hit the pavement, and he started to take off to laugh at his friends and make the personal promise that not ever would he set feet on that ride again. He stopped for a second, looking back and catching the taller boy not running towards another line yet, but watching patiently. He stepped back. “Thank hyu.”


End file.
